


Don't Poke the Medic

by psyclonus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: But its only implied, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mentions Rung like twice, Past Abuse, Ratchet is a good mech, Ratchet is not going to hurt Drift I promise, mentioned past trauma, well like...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyclonus/pseuds/psyclonus
Summary: Drift sometimes likes to poke at Ratchet's buttons despite the medic getting really annoyed. Today was a bad day for Ratchet so Drift goes just a bit too far.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Don't Poke the Medic

Solar-cycle after solar-cycle...well, day after day (sometimes Ratchet forgets they are using human slang now), Drift had been making himself at home in the medbay. Sure things have started to slow down after the last crisis on this wretched ship but that didn’t mean Ratchet could just entertain guests daily. Especially guests that seemed keen on poking at his buttons. 

Today, Ratchet was more tense than usual. Sure it had calmed down, but with times of rest bots tend to think a little too hard. One particular bot had caused some severe injuries to himself, though he refused to admit it, and Ratchet had enough knowledge to be able to recognize the difference between accident and purposeful. He couldn’t do anything besides heal the bot and suggest he talk to someone, Rung, if he was willing but if not then anyone would do, just talk. 

“Hey Ratchet.” The voice practically ripped him from his thoughts, the servo tightened around the wrench he had. Drift was leaning back against his desk like he was the most casual bot in all of existence when Ratchet  _ knew _ he wasn’t. 

“ _ What? _ ” The usual sound of irritation didn’t even try to hold itself back in his tone. Drift was such a huge source of frustration that he couldn’t help himself sometimes. Honestly, the only reason the mech annoyed him so much was the scrap he let out of his intake. Ratchet knew, he  _ knew _ , Drift was using this born-again bull to make himself feel better, which wouldn’t be bad if Drift wasn’t trying to shove this new attitude in Ratchet’s face every time they came across each other. 

“I know it’s been a hard day but the medbay really needs to be filled with some positive energy, you know?” Like that, that pure ...scrap! Oohh. Ratchet tried to hold back his growl but it was pretty hard. He turned his helm back to give Drift just the most vexed look he could possibly muster. Once again it did not sway the swordmech, so words would need to be used.

“Positive energy huh? Is that why you are here? To spread that heap of garbage to all those around you?” Then he waved the wrench at Drift in a show of annoyance. “Also, stay away from my desk, you’ll break something.” Ratchet warned him before turning back to fussing with something,  _ anything _ to keep him from strangling the ex-con.

“It’s not garbage Ratchet, but don’t worry. I’ll be extra careful.” Ratchet could hear the smirk and feel the thumbs up behind him. ‘Positive energy my aft,’ Ratchet mumbled to himself. Muttering became a bad habit of the older mech. Whatever, he didn’t care if anyone heard him. Too bad the only bot that could potentially hear him was the cause for the muttering. 

“I know your lack of belief inhibits your ability to be happy Ratchet, but I think it would really help you.” Oh  _ now _ he really was pushing the buttons. Why did he like doing this? He knew it always worked on Ratchet, so that’s probably why. 

“Oh? So you’re implying I can’t be happy, Drift.” Though he tried to, he really did, he tried to keep his calm, his servo slammed the wrench down on the table, keeping his servo over it as he turned. It must have been a loud enough noise for Drift to jump a little. Did he slam it too hard? It didn’t feel like he did? 

“I... Of course not, but I see how hard it is for you. Primus has helped me so I don’t see how believing won’t help you.” And he was trying to explain himself. Was he just an idiot for real? Did the group of cultists really change his view that much? But it wasn’t like this was the worst of his changes Drift has gone through. 

“Do you know why it’s so hard for me Drift? Because as a mech lays down on the slab next to me, choking on his own energon, clenching my servo as tightly as he can and crying for Primus to save him, I pray with him. I  _ want _ Primus to save someone for once! But all your religious cults have brought is suffering for those that are so terribly different and suffering.” Ratchet noticed he began advancing toward Drift as he spoke, the wrench still held tightly in his servo. The energy he was releasing was of pure animosity, not “”””positive”””” like Drift was trying to drag out of him with this scrap. The only reason he realized he was walking forward was the way Drift tightened up, many cycles of trained combat most likely. The reaction forced Ratchet to stop his movements. Drift was still an unpredictable mech after all. 

“It wasn’t Primus that saved you from the Dead End, Drift. It wasn’t Primus that changed your life, you did that on your own and the help of others. Maybe praise them more than your imaginary “god”,” Ratchet did some air quotes before turning away once again, he didn’t want to continue this conversation. He was way too tired, yelling at Drift took a lot out of him. The optics that had looked at him so wide with so many emotions he couldn’t even decipher a single one of them, it was hard to look at. 

“You don’t understand, Ratchet!” Of course he was going to continue. “Primus has helped me accept myself when I never could before!” Why did he have to yell? It was giving Ratchet a killer processor ache. But the yelling and words weren’t what stopped Ratchet in his tracks. It was the sound of a thud, Drift hitting his desk probably, and then the sound of shattering following soon after. When Ratchet turned Drift had also turned, panic in his frame as he looked over to see what had been a vial of something, now spilt all over the floor. Was it the arguement or everything that had happened today that set Ratchet off when he saw the sight? 

“Drift! What the _frag_ did I tell you?!” It had been the loudest he’d raised his voice in awhile. He advanced toward the alarmed mech faster than he had a moment ago, the wrench lifted up as he closed the distance. Sure it looked like he was going to strike Drift, but Ratchet had far more self control than that. He would never cause harm to another unless it was pure self defense. But the sight before him stopped him from even speaking further. All that positive energy, that frustrated shouting from the argument and everything accompanied was completely stripped away. Drift had his arms up and his servo covering his helm. The deadly swordmech was cowering. There was a tremble in his frame and he even sunk himself low so he looked as small as possible before the medic. Ratchet could hear the faint sound of a whimper. Before a word could escape Ratchet’s intake he dropped the wrench from his servo, letting it clunk against the floor below. Suddenly nothing else mattered. Ratchet couldn’t care about anything that happened prior to this moment, his arms immediately reached out and wrapped themselves around the quivering mech. He pulled Drift into a tight but gentle hug. Maybe it was because he’d seen what this spectralist had been through from the beginning, seen how broken and hurt he’d always been that caused Ratchet’s spark to ache. He knew it was all a front in order to protect himself from the real demons Drift had been dealing with. Ratchet rubbed his servo over Drift’s back as comfortingly as possible.  
“I’m sorry for raising my voice, Drift, I would _never_ hurt you.” Ratchet reassured him in a quiet voice. The trembling was still there but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. Hugging Drift seemed to have had some positive effect on him because soon Ratchet felt servos hold onto whatever he could of Ratchet’s back. Besides the sound of Drift’s fans venting rapidly then to a slower pace, the medbay was silent. The medic wasn’t sure what else could set Drift off further so he didn’t move, kept himself quiet and continued to pet him on his back. 

“I’m..I’m sorry for not listening and breaking your ...thingy.” Drift almost sounded like a sparkling the way he spoke, the thought that this idiot hadn’t had a simple gesture like this in a long time began to break even Ratchet. Though, Ratchet was a bleeding spark. 

“Shh…” Was the only noise he could muster at first, moving his servo up to Drift’s helm to soothe him. “I can get a new one easily, you’re much more important.” Oop, maybe those were the wrong words? Ratchet could feel Drift’s frame weaken in the hug but then his arms tightened around Ratchet. Or maybe they were just what Drift needed to hear? Either way, Ratchet meant it, no vial of medicine he can replace is worth a bots’ trauma. 

After a good while, Ratchet didn’t care how long it took though, he felt Drift begin to pull away. Ratchet easily let go, but his servos lingered on Drift’s arms to make sure he was stable enough before fully letting him go. Once he had, Drift’s wrists went straight up to his optics, wiping at them for a moment before letting his servos fall back to his sides. He wasn’t smiling that big fake smile he’d been doing recently, but he wasn’t frowning either. There was a look of neutrality before their optics locked again. Ratchet wanted Drift to be the first to speak, so he’d be as patient as he needed to be, just looking him over with the care a medic would have. Soon though a smile graced his features. It was small but it was a smile nonetheless. 

“What?” Ratchet dared to speak. He seemed emotionally stable enough to at least hear some words.The smile on him felt weird, and the optics were almost looking right through him. What the scrap was he even looking at? 

“Your aura is beautiful, Ratch.” Drift cocked his head a bit like he was trying to get a better look. With a roll of his optics and a dismissive wave of his servo he declared Drift was fine, fine enough to spew that nonsense again. So Ratchet just responded with a grunt and moved away so he could pick up the wrench, first put that away then clean up the spill. He walked past Drift then around the front of the desk to set the wrench down and pull out a cloth from one of the drawers within. Drift watched every move he made, much like a subordinate waiting for some orders. Nope, Ratchet wasn’t going to order Drift. If Drift wanted to stand there awkwardly and watch him clean the spill then so be it. 

Ratchet knelt down, his frame making a soft creak as he did. It wasn’t only his servo getting old. Drift must have noticed the grunt that Ratchet didn’t even notice making, because he soon knelt down with Ratchet. 

“Here let me…” Drift offered with an outstretched servo. Ratchet stared for a moment considering his option then decided with a shake of his helm.

“It’s hard for me to get up and down, so can you clean up the shards? I’ll wipe the liquid up.” There, it wasn’t an order, it was an offer, one that Drift could refuse if he really wanted. Ratchet wasn’t exactly well versed in bots with mental trauma, since it was all in the words...or something, but he’d been talking to Rung about how to deal with those that did have them. Offer with questions, never order. Something like that. It worked well enough since Drift nodded in agreement and began carefully picking up each shard. Their servos were tough so there wasn’t a worry about the glass shards having the potential to cut up Drift. 

Together the spill was cleaned rather quickly, throwing away everything they used to clean it. Once Ratchet stood, he was visibly satisfied, the mess was cleaned and Drift seemed to be relaxing. Good, Drift didn’t need to feel like that, especially from Ratchet. Even though the mech was horribly annoying, he still wanted Drift to feel safe in his company. 

“I still have a few reports to read,” Ratchet twisted his frame a little to give his back strut a little crack, ugh. Then he gestured to the stack of datapads still sitting on his desk. Drift glanced at them for a moment then at Ratchet. He seemed a bit confused so Ratchet would probably have to spell it out. 

“If you’d like to stay while I read you can, meditate or whatever it is you do.” And another genuine smile from Drift, score two for Ratchet. This time the blasted smile was contagious enough to make Ratchet return it. 

“I’d love to.” With the confirmation, Ratchet nodded and grabbed a few of the datapads, carrying them over to the couch situated just a little bit away. Drift took a moment before grabbing the rest for Ratchet and following him to the couch. With an amused huff Ratchet sat down, setting all the datapads but one down on the tiny table in front of the couch. Drift followed suit, setting the rest down, then he sat next to Ratchet. The medic watched him for a moment, unhooking the two swords on his hips and placing them on the couch next to him, then removed the Great Sword from his back, letting it rest on his lap as his legs crossed. He really was going to meditate huh? 

The both of them sat in silence, Ratchet reading report after report while Drift trained his breathing to a steady almost recharging state. But then Ratchet felt a weight pressed against his arm. The stress and excitement must have worn out Drift more than he’d even realized. The poor swordmech had slipped into recharge, leaning against the medic next to him. Ratchet still had a few more reports to read so there wasn’t any harm in letting Drift sleep. In fact, the act was so simple and relaxing Ratchet ended up smiling despite whatever words appeared on the datapads. When Drift wasn’t purposefully pressing at Ratchet’s buttons they seemed to get along just fine. Who knows, maybe Ratchet enjoyed Drift’s presence more than either of them realized? 

Without much thought to it, Ratchet tilted his helm to the side, resting it against the top of Drift’s. Ratchet was positive neither of them were exactly used to this kind of familiarity but from the purr of the speedster’s engine it would seem the both equally enjoyed the act. Once the last datapad had been finished, Ratchet couldn’t bring himself to wake Drift or move away. Besides, the old mech could use some rest himself, so he allowed his frame to shut down, slipping into a quiet recharge against Drift. It wasn’t the most comfortable position for a recharge but the both of them would silently agree it was the most relaxing recharge they’d had in who knows how long. 

**Author's Note:**

> My boyfriend and I have been talking about Drift's whole past and everything, sometimes Ratchet explodes without really meaning to and the thought of Drift really getting scared once influenced this fic. We both heavily agreed that Ratchet would comfort Drift and never harm him. Ratchet's just an overall good mech and they both fit so well together.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I was feeling some kind of way when writing this.


End file.
